


The Trout

by EasyNitesAngel



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Global Depression, Heroic AU - kind of, Historical References, Non-Heroes vs Villains AU, Not Beta Read, Other, Puzzles & Subtext, Slight Historical Inaccuracy - bc it’s a mcreakin fic pls I’m trying my damnedest, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 06:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyNitesAngel/pseuds/EasyNitesAngel
Summary: In a world submerged in utter economic stagnation, anyone is willing to believe and blame anything. Corrupt politics and poverty leave the people in the dark, desperate and fearful. There has to be something behind this, it cannot be solely fate that is at fault. Only Slug and Flugslys, two people living parallel lives, can be certain of what is worsening the collective misery of humanity. As they feel increasingly drawn to each other, they begin to realize that "fate" can hardly begin to describe what the people do not know.





	1. Black Tuesday

> “I am a wicked man… But do you know, gentlemen, what was the main point about my wickedness? The whole thing, precisely was, the greatest nastiness precisely lay in my being shamefully conscious every moment, in the moments of the greatest bile, that I was not only not a wicked man but was not even an embittered man, that I was simply frightening sparrows in vain, and pleasing myself with it.”
> 
> -Fyodor Dostoyevsky, _Notes from Underground_

**October 30, 1929.**

Alec had always been known as a man of habit and tradition, and one of meticulous and elegant nature. When he had picked up the newspaper early in the morning, while out of comfortable routine, he had been expecting to ruminate over certain recent events that had caused chaos over the past few days.

Unfortunately, however, as much as he wanted to indulge in his usual morning of skimming through the current events before working, he’d had to handle several consequences affecting his company. He was drowned in paperwork, contracts, the decline of his acquisitions, all of which threatened the state of his company. In a time like this, as urgent as this, he knew that was something he could never let himself give into. So he had sacrificed the comfortable, slow start of every day, promising himself that when all of this trouble was finished, he would allow a moment of reprieve. His company needed to come first, especially at this very moment. He could not fail it when he had worked so diligently and precisely to keep it successful for so long.

When evening finally came, he sat at his oak desk, staring at the headline. Thinking. While feeling tired, he was oddly not too exhausted to give up this time he usually dedicated to his mornings. He gave himself some time to drink in the bold lettering, the dark panic that had soaked into the very fibers of the paper. His dark eyes sailed languidly to the articles beneath, of grape and wheat prices plummeting, company values shattering within a matter of hours, the pictures of crowds submerged within the hysteria of gambling, banks collapsing, muddled rumors and half-truths becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy…

The week had been a difficult one for the country. Alec, however, with his being precise, had stayed safe. His company was in no danger, despite the thousands of others falling to shambles the previous day. He, unlike the others, knew how to play his cards; he knew when he needed to be smart. What he had done was ultimately the right thing when everything eventually played out in his favor. He, unlike the others, did not fail.

He had known all along how the week would play out: the stock market was a fickle and palpable entity in nature, but as it was a manmade system, it would act in the nature of man. It would thrive when the people would thrive, and it would panic would the people would panic. And, it was not difficult at all to ignite fear in such an abstruse system that many liked to think they understood out of greed and, most of all, the need for security. Money, as the country had learned in the past decade, was essential—especially in copious amounts. Money meant freedom, safety. It yielded happiness. But, prosperity had become so plausible and tangible for too long to too many. The Dream had been jumbled with the hope of it being a reality to too many: the stock market had become too common for anyone’s own good.

Wall Street drowned itself in rumors for several days now, and it was forced to pay the price too soon. The fear was as eminent as it was potent. People were pointing at whatever they deemed fit for the blame. But, Alec knew better, that it was not just the ticker falling behind, nor was it only the game of speculation, nor the the ignorant belief in such a wavering system being able to only rise and never fall. There was much more to the national economy crumbling apart so quickly. Alec had been aware of this since the beginning, and had always been several steps ahead of knowing where the money would go.

He took his time to read through the first article, but found himself skimming across the words, as if he had read the story several times before and knew every word by heart, but could not find it in him to stop himself picking up the book. It all boiled down to gloating now. The waiting had almost run its course; he had long prepared for this moment and had followed all the rules perfectly out of reverential respect. _This_ was he had been set out to do all along. Morals were not a matter in what he _had_ to do; it was not a question about choosing the thing that was at the very least the most morally right thing to do, nor was there no true evil involved in this game, because when playing with humanity, morality will get muddled up in the midst of havoc. 

And, more than anything, Alec knew he would face those challenging him to turn against his fate; he also knew an easy journey was a pointless one. So long as he could keep up with every piece in his arsenal, track their movements for or against himself…

The soft and muffled melody of jazz pulled him out of his thoughts. Its upbeat, yet content and peaceful tune pulled the corners of his lips up into a small smirk as he let out a breathy chuckle. The old grandfather clock’s ticking mimicked the slow beat, the seconds broken yet even with the Westminster chimes sounding quietly off its cue. He breathed in the stale air of his office, contemplating the scent as if he _were_ in Wall Street yesterday evening when the despair and fear were at their height. As it was, he did not have to be all the way up in New York City to witness such a spectacle, but he could not deny that merely waiting to read newspaper articles of the aftermath was far less intriguing.

His eyes sailed languidly to the telephone intercom on the wall. He had been meaning to talk to his new employee for awhile. 

He puffed out a sharp sigh. The young man was as annoying as he was endearing in his own little way. Dr. Durbeyfield was a flourishing engineer with an incredibly brilliant mind, a prodigal one fated to be a mastermind in engineering—one that would have been far older than his age had he not been so… innocent. The doctor was a very bright person, both in intellect and in purity, as if he emanated a soft glow about himself. It was truly an odd mix: a gullible, virtuous genius, clean of mistrust and corruption. The businessman did not know whether or not he actually liked him this way, but even if he had an opinion, it would matter very little. What mattered were his abilities and enthusiasm, and for how long Alec needed to continue waiting. 

Moments of simply conversing with his employee were important, anyhow. He needed his new engineer to trust him first in order to build a beneficial relationship as boss and worker. It would make business more successful, after all.

The man got up from his chair behind the desk and called for the doctor to come up from his lab. As he sat back down and picked the paper to skim over another article, he absently chuckled at the image of the scientist frantically searching for a point to stop his notes he scribbled down during the last remaining minutes of his shift. That was without a doubt one thing Alec found admirable about his new engineer: his seemingly inexhaustible diligence. But, it was admirable in a way that leaned more to worried and slightly irritated appreciation, as the young man would often neglect to take care of himself in favor of his dedication to his work.

He flipped the page, now emerged in a report of resistance against the Young Plan in Germany—or, at least, trying to be. His mind was too distracted despite having managed the majority of what he had needed to for his business for the day.

When he heard the short timid knocking against the oak door to his office, he gruffly answered an inattentive “Come in,” and looked up to see the doctor peeking through the small crack left open to frantically glance around the room.

Which was another thing that somewhat irked Alec: Durbeyfield was an especially bashful man, one who did not appreciate much attention at all. He was noticeably more nervous around him, and whether this was because the scientist found him imposing or was just shy around others, Alec was not entirely certain. It was definite, however, that the young man was very aware of this and attempted to handle it, but consistently failed to do so.

The businessman raised a brow at him over the top of the paper he had folded down. “…I said you may come in, Doctor.”

He heard a faint, sheepish chuckle come from the scientist as the young man stepped into the room. A thick coat and a flat cap rested folded over his arm, which he gingerly placed on the coat rack by the door. He watched him briskly walk to the desk and wipe his hands on his jeans and draw in a deep breath as if trying to settle his nerves. There was a faint, wet sound of the doctor licking his lips he could barely hear over the muffled music and the clock.

“You may sit down, too, if you would like.”

The doctor immediately plopped down on the armchair adjacent to himself, muttering an apology. He did not slump into himself; he stood straight and forward, as he waited silently for his boss who was engrossed in the newspaper.

He swallowed dryly and bit his chapped lip, listening to the odd clock against one side of the large room and noticed it read at 7:45—about a half-hour behind, or perhaps several—but neither the minute nor hour hands budged as the pendulum ticked off of a slow rhythm, seeming like it was dragging itself to and fro. Before he could ponder the clock, his attention was averted to the phonograph quietly playing a joyous, yet smooth melody. When he had last seen it being used, among the countless times he had come into this office, he remembered just barely recognizing the tune of an old lied; a song he had aways been very familiar with, but could never remember the name.

On that note, ever since he had started working for this man, he learned very quickly how often his boss ensured they spend time together, albeit for not very long. They typically would discuss how the company was faring, or the doctor would give him reports on production or progress on designs, as one would expect, but the stiffness of each meeting had loosened slowly. The older man had a condescending impression about him, which he could not help but to shy from, but he had been beginning to realize that his boss was most likely not as supercilious as he appeared to be. Then, they had begun to talk about other things—when specifically, the doctor was not certain—and he had discovered that the man seemed very insistent on keeping his employee updated with current events; specifically, those affecting the country and at times, other parts of the world. The doctor supposed that it was convenient enough for his boss to update him regularly on what happened in the bigger world beyond his own, as he often neglected to venture outside of his work. It was a bit odd, though, because when he had first met him, the businessman had appeared… impalpable. Untouchable. Sharp and self-assured. And, in a way, almost malign. 

“Do you enjoy the music?” Alec asked, voice rasped with age. The doctor startled at the question slightly, making the elder chuckle, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

The young man laughed a little nervously, “N-No, it’s fine. I do like it, I suppose, I just…” he paused and licked his lips, “I’ve-I’ve never taken you to be someone who would listen to jazz.”

Alec shrugged, folding and setting the paper on the desk off to the side, “Hm, well, I don’t particularly like it, actually. It doesn’t quite convey anything beyond lightheartedness, but I thought today I might as well humor myself a little. It’s not often that I allow myself to indulge in music, as it’s too distracting to listen to as I read,” he said, stealing a glance at the scientist’s pale eyes. He could _feel_ the teeming energy of childlike curiosity emanating from them, devouring whatever they could see. The young man turned away from the contact, and Alec stood up and walked to the bar cabinet, “Would you like something to drink?”

“U-Um, no thank you, sir.”

“Really?” he questioned, pulling out a bottle of Louis XIII and pouring it into a cognac glass, “It’s been a long day for you, has it not? You’re sure you don’t want anything?”

“Yes, sir, I’m alright,” the doctor assured, now twiddling his hands, “I-I mean, that is, I wouldn’t exactly say it’s been a long day for me. But, it has been a productive one.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs, heading back to his seat. He takes a moment to steal a whiff of the glass before asking, “Would you happen to have an idea explaining why I’ve decided to speak with you today?”

He could feel Durbeyfield stiffen slightly at the question, and a small smirk crept its way onto his weathered, yet sharp face, “Um, well. Has something happened today, sir?”

“Of course,” Alec coolly answered, stealing a sip of his drink. 

The doctor chuckled sheepishly, not entirely certain whether his boss caught onto his sarcasm. A slightly sweaty hand came up to run through his light hair. His eyes wandered to Alec’s newspaper to absently read the bold headline, and realized it immediately, “O-Oh. Wall Street’s crashed… again…” 

He could feel those eyes trained on him expectantly. Another sip, “Indeed.”

“Um,” he skimmed through some of the upside-down articles. As he read, he missed the growing grin worming its way through his boss’ features and the knife-like stare waiting for another reaction. He turned the paper around after muttering something to the other man to reread the articles. Alec watched his eyes frantically consume the print before him and look up at him again after a thickening silence. He finally spoke, “…Sir? Is—Are—?”

“Now, now, as bad as all of that sounds, we are in no danger. I’ve already sold all of my investments awhile ago, among other things. We have nothing to worry about.”

The young man let his shoulders slump, some of the tension embedded in his body easing off. He pondered absently for a moment.

“Point being, the national economy is now at stake—well, I shouldn’t quite say that yet. Rather, I won’t be surprised if we, like Europe, will fall into a depression.”

“Solely because of the crash…?”

Alec hummed, “No, not quite. Of course, there are numerous things that have been happening for the past few years. Overproduction in the wheat, retail, automobile industries and the like. You know how it can get. And the goddamn banks have recently shut down to top everything else off,” he took a gulp from his drink, “The crash simply… occurred at a very _inconvenient_ , yet sensible time. In other words, no one cared to stand back and look at the boom in a more realistic light.”

“And, what does that exactly mean for us, sir?”

“Well, a number of things. I have to be careful with what I choose to do with my company. I’ve had to give up quite a bit of it already.”

…That was all?

Durbeyfield nodded at the other man, feeling himself drifting. His gaze stayed fixated on the victrola, the record spinning, the tone-arm swaying gently inwards. Concentrating, thinking. Because, simply, there had to be more. Alec seemed to enjoy talking to him. Yet, he was oddly quiet this evening—or smug, or… something he could not quite decipher. There _had_ to be more. Something was missing. This meeting was incomplete. Something felt… off.

His attention fell back to Alec. Dark eyes pierced into his own, holding an icy glare sending shivers through his spine. Despite his boss’ age, the worn skin had not softened his face at all: in fact, the slight winkles formed sharp cracks on his countenance, with a protruding narrow nose and thin lips pulled downward into a slight scowl, and a sharpened, bony jaw creating a naturally shrewd and penetrating gaze. His cheeks never appeared to be flushed. If Durberfield were to touch either one, the skin upon it would likely have been freezing. He probably would have sneered at him, too, not that he had ever seen the man act anything beyond silently cold. But, he looked more intimidating than usual.

“Mr. Flagg?”

“Dr. Durbeyfield.”

The doctor paused before allowing himself to ask something else, tilting his head slightly as a silent question.

“I am assuming you hadn't heard that I was trying to get your attention,” he gruffly said. His doctor attempted to stutter out an apology in embarrassment until he was waved off, “I had been trying to say that our company will suffer some consequences.”

“…Of?” 

“Of the crash,” he paused to finish the glass, “Some of our partners have unfortunately endured their loss, which means we will be a little strained on materials until I find someone else within the material processing industries with whom I can form an acquisition.” 

“We can’t use our own sector for processing materials?”

“Not efficiently, no. I had to layoff the majority of the workers in that field.”

“Right,” he mumbled, recalling that event.

“A damn shame, really. I hadn’t predicted my other partners supplying us with resources to fail so easily,” he stopped himself to let the words sink into Durbeyfield’s mind. What an oblivious man.

“Um, then what should I do about the new designs and models, in that case?”

Alec sighed disappointedly, “Keep them. It is better if you save them somewhere in secret, even if we most likely won’t be able to produce many of the models for awhile. The industry has been lying low for a few years, anyway. We will have to see what happens.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Hm,” he leaned back in his chair, forming a steeple with his bony fingers for resting his chin upon the tip, “Well, I would honestly speculate we might encounter a bit of a… scuffle, to lightly put it, in the future. I doubt very soon, but. Soon enough. You know how international politics can get.”

“No kidding,” the doctor scoffed. He was about to ask something, but Flagg unintentionally cut him off.

“That reminds me,” he says, leaning forward on the desk, seeming eager, “Many of our partners have been praising your models and products. The world’s quite impressed with them, you see.”

Durbeyfield blinked owlishly, “…Oh?”

Alec grinned, “Of course. In fact, they’ve been requesting that we offer them some of your help with their own. A collaboration, if you will.”

The doctor nodded, taken aback by what his boss was willing to offer. He wasn't entirely aware that he was supposedly _that_ successful as an engineer, if other companies within the aviation industry were willing to ask for more of what Flagg’s could potentially give. He considered it a possibility that the majority of his older models alone, before he had started working here, were well ahead of what the industry was collectively planning. Yet, if his creations really, truly were that popular during the industry’s decline, then what could that mean for the future of this company?

“I’ll let you think on it for some time. I haven’t really considered it much at all, on my part. I’m not entirely sure what to think of it, either. But, it does seem promising, since these are other big names that have once competed with us. Perhaps, at some point, I could buy them all out—though, that probably will get our company in trouble in the future, as lovely as a growing monopoly might sound…”

“When-When do you think we would actually start doing this—i-if we do?”

“Oh, perhaps another year or so. We've got time, and so do they. Besides, I would think it more important to worry about our own problems first.”

“Of course, sir.”

The doctor regarded Alec for a moment. He tried to avoid the man’s too condescending gaze, tried to avoid how if he were to theoretically touch the skin of his face, it would feel dry and icy and might peel loosely right off the muscle like an adhered mask. There was something that was still missing, but he could not figure out what it could possibly be.

Alec arose from his chair, “I’ll get another glass. One is not enough right now,” he strolled to the cabinet and picked up the cognac bottle which he had left out earlier, “Again, are you sure you don’t want anything? Or do you need to be leaving soon?”

“Um, I can stay a bit longer, if you don’t mind. And, I guess I’ll try something… uh… I’ll-I’ll take wine, if you have any.”

“Good choice, actually,” he finished refilling his glass, and opened up a cabinet door to pull out a bottle and inspect its label, nodding approvingly. He reached for a wine glass, “I got this bottle almost a week ago, but haven’t gotten around to trying it. It’s from Bordeaux.”

He gathered both drinks and set them down on the desk, and moved the wine glass closer to Durbeyfield.

“Thank you,” the doctor said. He dragged the base of the glass lightly towards him and held it just before his lips. The wine was likely very expensive, and he wasn't certain whether he should have immediately taken a small sip already or not. He rarely indulged himself in drinking. This time, however, he felt almost… obligated to give in this one time. Something about it almost felt right.

“So,” Alec started, taking back his seat, “putting very recent events’ nonsense aside, how has everything been with your own work?”

“Oh, w-well, um,” he nervously decided to just try his drink at that moment, finding it luxuriously sweet, “It’s… Things are actually going by a little bit more smoothly with my team. A-And, well, the others as well. We’re currently trying to better, um, understand and experiment with a breakthrough in improving radar detection.”

“ _Really_ , now? You’ve finally been able to resolve everything from that issue?”

“Well, y-yes, but I’m not quite sure how important it may actually turn out to be at some point. I mean, I can’t be certain if something like that will be demanded any time soon, that is. At least, I hope not, considering…”

The man laughed at the statement, and Durbeyfield felt his blood run a little cold, “Well, we can’t get our hopes up so quickly. The world is often disappointing, after all. I will say this again, you _know_ how international politics can get.”

The doctor sipped at his wine, muttering a bit somberly, “Of course, sir.”

Flagg noticed something break inside the younger man. He shook his head when the other was not looking, slightly disappointed in himself for causing the other to draw away so quickly. He couldn't allow himself to get too carried away with anything. It was as easy as it was tempting to fall for arrogance. At least this was something that he should fix with relative ease: it wasn't very difficult to distract the engineer, anyhow, “I’m sorry if I struck a nerve, Doctor. I may not understand whatever pain you’d had to suffer from it. I did not intend to stir up ay bad memories.”

Those pretty eyes looked up at him, searching his face again. In a way, they reminded him of a child seeking and quietly asking for reassurance. They observed his face like they had a few times this evening, but now searching for something. Perhaps it was sincerity, if Alec had not known better. But, he undoubtedly knew far better than that.

“Oh, no, i-it’s nothing, really, sir.”

Alec knew better. He knew his engineer was lying.

Durbeyfield sipped his drink, fingers tapping nervously on the glass. His mind was elsewhere. He tried to not think about how insincere this felt. How each conversation in this office really felt staged in a way, as if he were watching the scenes unfold and he passively let them continue. But, that was not quite it, because he also felt he was responsible for the scene and how it carried itself out and what specifically unfurled. He couldn't be sure. Something was still missing from this. Something that was _meant_ to be missing in this one particular scene.

“Doctor?”

He was abruptly startled out of his thoughts. He glanced over to look at Flagg’s cold glare. He stuttered, “U-Um, yes?”

The older man regarded him with an odd look and a raised thin brow, “Tell me,” he starts before another gulp, “do you believe in fate?”

He found himself pausing at the question. It seemed to be a little silly, but he decided to give an honest answer anyway, “W-Well…” he trails off for a moment, “I mean, I suppose in some ways it does exist.”

“Really, now?” he actually seemed surprised at the answer, “Would you care to elaborate?”

“S-Sure… Of course, what I mean is, um, while I wouldn’t quite say that everyone necessarily has anything particularly meaningful that will come out of their lives, I would argue that because everyone differs in at least some way, it is possible that there ought to be something they are set out to do. Under whose control, no one can truly be certain, but if anything, we can entertain ourselves with answers that seem the most plausible to each of us.

“But, well, that’s only a way to put it, I suppose. In a way, I do believe in it, while also believing in free will. That is, we can make our conscious decisions, but it is inevitable that we will be more inclined to choose one path over any others. As a result, fate would perhaps seem a little more passive in its nature.”

Alec hummed while nodding, “What a safe answer.”

“I’m sorry?”

“What I mean is, what you seem to think is very similar to…” he pauses for a second, swirling the glass in his hand absentmindedly, “I’m sure you’ve heard of the biblical story of Adam and Eve.”

“...Well, y-yes.”

“Your view of fate is highly reflective of what happened before God had to be separated from them: He had left the both of them subject to their own free will, on the condition that neither of them take nor eat anything from the Tree of Knowledge.”

“Yes…”

“But, of course, it would be foolish to claim that God in this story would have never expected that either Adam or Eve would feel tempted with curiosity, and that they would do it anyway. He did not feel betrayed, He was not surprised in the slightest. But, they had a choice regardless. He let them choose knowing full well what would happen. They were fated to disobey him, simply because they were more likely to do so anyway.”

“Um, yeah,” he dumbly said, taking a larger sip from his glass, “That is pretty similar to what I’m trying to say. A, well, better way to put it, I suppose. Um, what would you think sir?”

“I think,” he draws in a deep breath, “that that is not always the case. I wouldn’t say not ever, but there are things that can happen that can be completely out of one’s own control, outside of whether that person has caused it or not, or chooses to do anything about it. Things are bound to happen spontaneously; and, people can only _do_ so much.”

The doctor silently nodded. What an odd subject to talk about. Granted, they both would converse from time to time about more personable matters and beliefs, but it was rare. And, he could not help to find himself enjoying it to some extent. It wore at the stiff barrier between them both and their professional relationship. Which may or may not be a good thing. It at least allowed his mind some time to rest and be distracted from the work he forced himself to worry about constantly.

For the rest of the hour, they continued talking about primarily about other things: of more global and national matters, the previous question and topic forgotten. As the tension continued to wane gradually, Durbeyfield did not notice how his nerves had mostly settled, partially because of the wine. 

When they both had long finished their drinks, the conversation eventually began to fade away, and Alec decided it was time to let his scientist leave for the night. Quite a bit of progress had been made this evening.

“Oh, I’d meant to tell you that your work has been wonderful so far. As long you keep it up, I am certain we will have nothing to worry about for the company,” he stood and took both empty glasses and set them back on the cabinets, and went to grab his coat. 

By the time he turned towards the doctor while buttoning up his jacket, the other was looking at the clock, seemingly lost in thought. He appeared to still be searching.

Alec had learned quite a number of things about fate along the way. How fickle it liked to be. He truly believed in it as much as he believed humans were subject to free will. Or, rather, he believed free will to be a mere illusion, a pretty disguise hiding the idea of fate, what was written to be tucked away quietly. Free will was simply an ideal that made people feel better about their own lives in terms of what they thought they could control. There was a lot of waiting where fate was concerned.

Now, Durbeyfield looked like a man who preferred to be relatively safe, just like most humans. Although, Alec would not have guessed he wouldn’t quite dismiss the very notion of a larger entity manipulating much smaller beings that had no power over anything, playing with them like puppets. 

But, unlike him, Alec knew better.

He was still a very bright young man, Alec could not deny that, in many aspects. Like a little spark, flickering and sputtering to maintain some light for itself. If Alec remained patient, if he restricted himself to only waiting, then he would be able to create a greater flame from it. For now, he was forced to wait.

He bade the doctor good night, finished gathering his scarf, paying little heed to the other throwing his own coat over his shoulders and flopping his cap back upon his head. He briskly went to the door, but stopped himself right before touching the handle.

“Is something the matter, Doctor?” he asked, knowing full well.

Durbeyfield’s thoughts had been running through his head until he realized it. He could barely believe it. All the shares sold off. The price cutting. The layoffs. Minimizing production. All were attempts to maximize profits despite the state of the company recently. It had been flourishing for several months, it had been prosperous. There was no need for enforcing desperate attempts to maintain as much money as possible as if it were scarce. Flagg was in a comfortable enough position to not even think about doing any of those things at all. But, he did it anyway.

Just _weeks_ before the crash.

He looked over to his boss again. Had he known all this time? _Could_ he have known? How could he have possibly known? There was no concrete, absolute way to predict any reaction the stock market endures, was there? There couldn’t be.

Then, it struck him. Was any of this intentional? Was this something he was supposed to know about? Specifically now? This was far too… scripted, he felt. As if he were meant to just be learning about this, realizing something. But, what? There was still more, he knew. 

“Have you found what you are looking for?”

Durbeyfield flinched, nearly making his cap fall off. He adjusted it snugly over his head, “Wh-What? Um, I mean, nothing’s the matter s-sir. Everything’s fine. I’m just…” he shrugged, hand pressing down on the handle, “I suppose I just feel a bit off this evening.”

Flagg chuckled, “Well, then, perhaps it really has been a long day for you, in that case.”

“Uh, yeah. Um. Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Doctor.”

The door clicked against the frame, left slightly ajar. The room was almost quiet. The air seemed… stale. Dead. Everything felt still. It was a bit gloomy and dreary now, as if time were holding its breath for a moment, but it was still moving, because of the muffled happy tune of the music playing. Alec remembered to turn the phonograph off, and stored the disc away. He had almost forgotten about it, despite not caring much for foolish cheerfulness for very long. 

“Perhaps I should play jazz more often,” he muttered, laughing quietly to himself. He glanced over at the newspaper, laying crinkled on the desk. He considered burning it, but decided to place it in an empty drawer for later.

Finally, he snatched the black silk top hat from the coat rack, fixed it atop his head, and left the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I wasn't really sure if I should a bit of historical context?? I can totes do that (like I can give you guys lil footnotes on here that's no problem) I just don't know if it would be that necessary but if you guys think so pls for the love of GOD let me know I've dedicated so much time to research things and I want you to get the historical references
> 
>  
> 
> **ALSO THE NEXT CHAPTER IS NOT A CHAPTER IT'S A JUST A DETAILED STATUS UPDATE JUST FYI SO YOU DON'T GET AS ANGRY WITH ME THANK YOU**


	2. ((Status Update))

**Hey, guys...**

**So, I'm really excited to get back on my shenanigans again. I've been a really busy bee lately, mainly because of college apps, which are pretty much done now, I had a shitty job until the end of September, and school's been kinda crazy. I mean, it's real nice just having four classes this year, all of which I actually _like_ , but sometimes they can get a little demanding--along with a couple of other projects I _need_ to get done, so.**

**For those of you who don't know, this fic's been through a LOT. It was published almost exactly a year ago, I had written quite a bit for it, and only published, like, four chapters, but I hit this Crazy Epiphany some months ago and now you're seeing the new version of it. This story used to have a different title, yes, but I decided to change the name into its English translation to make a little less cheesy.**

**I hate to say this, but updates will be pretty slow for this fic. It takes a lot of work to write just one chapter, because this fic demands a lot of in-depth research on my end--and, like, it's taken me nearly 2 whole-ass months to finish this sucker (mostly because I've had a bunch of other things going on). And because I'm obsessed with historical accuracy, there's going to be a lot of waiting involved... Hopefully, most of the things I'm writing are accurate, I'm already getting worried bc my anxiety really Be Like That all the time. (Btw if you're history geek and you see smth wrong in any of the chapters at all pls let me know--also like I said before if you need footnotes for context on smth, also let me know I'd like you to appreciate my research pls I've worked vvvvv hard)**

**Of course, this will note will be replaced by the upcoming second chapter. Be on the look out if you're still interested in this fic (for now, I'm going to say that the next chapter may come out late February hopefully bc I have a bunch of other projects I need to stress over atm), because it won't be seen on the most recently updated fics organization until I get the third chapter up. There are all kinds of things I've got in mind for y'all. I just wanted to throw this "added chapter" out to not only give you a bit of a detailed status update on my end (I am NOT typing all of this into that tiny-ass author's note section at the end of the last chapter), but to also let you guys know this fic has FINALLY started its new version, so.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Any and all kudos and comments are well-appreciated.
> 
> Tumblr: [here](https://easy-nites-angel.tumblr.com)


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